Bite Me
by Flamedancer33
Summary: Breaking up and making up in four easy steps, or how Rodney and John both almost sabotaged their relationship. McShep, PWP.
1. Bite Me

So apparently I've been lurking around the McShep community on lj a little much lately, because I have _porn on the brain_. And rather than work on my other SGA story, I wanted to write pointless smut. And vampires. Because Rodney would be such an adorably harmless vampire.

Also, yes, the tense does switch back and forth a little. It's meant to be that way. The whole thing is very stream-of-consciousness for me, so it was basically whatever I felt like I wanted it to be. This is the most porny thing I've ever written. I don't know if I can go farther than this, but I'm perfectly happy with this as it is. I'm actually kinda proud of it. I just wanted to write something with a lot of sex and no real plot and that is exactly what I did. I'm working on John's POV and if I like how it turns out I'll toss it up here.

This is what I do with my insomnia.

disclaimer: me no own.

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Bite Me

---

Actually, as far as Rodney McKay was concerned, being a vampire kind of sucked, no pun intended.

In fact, he found himself forgetting several times that he had been turned. As long as it didn't interfere with his work or his ability to mainline coffee- and it didn't, contrary to popular belief- then he honestly didn't care. That he occasionally found himself yearning for AB- was only mildly off-putting, the same sort of wrinkled-nose _eewww_ response as is generally evoked by tomato ice cream. There was no bursting into flame upon exposure to sunlight- direct contact was strongly discouraged because it greatly weakened him, but it took hours of constant exposure to actually get dangerous- no inconvenient fangs unless he wanted them, no horrendous accents, no sweeping around in a billowing cape and/or drooling over female throats. There may have been a little drooling over male throats, but that was strictly a Rodney thing.

He'd told three people: Zelenka, because he worked closely with the man and thought the Czech might deserve to know, even though he doubted the scruffy little bastard had actually believed him; Carson, because he was Rodney's best friend and a medical doctor and was currently Rodney's only reliable blood source that didn't involve utterly humiliating himself; and Ronon, because he probably would've figured it out anyways, considering Rodney did a pretty good deer tick impression on him the first night after the turning.

(Ronon was, in fact, Rodney's neighbor who had a key to Rodney's house because the former tenant was an old woman who needed looking after. Rodney was definitely not an old woman, but Ronon took to looking in on him anyways. The sasquatch strolled right on in whenever he felt like it and actually spent more time in Rodney's house than his own. Rodney had complained about this at first but neither of them had taken him seriously and Ronon became something of an installment in the house, like a tacky family heirloom that the current inheritor can't get rid of but doesn't know what else to do with.)

Carson thought it might be some sort of virus and ran all sorts of tests, ranging from mildly uncomfortable to unbelievably mortifying, until Rodney lost what little patience he had and told the doctor in great detail where he could get his next sample from. Zelenka got him a black t-shirt with the words Bite Me big and white in front. Ronon just shrugged and stole his chocolate muffin and refused to give it back until Rodney was forced to make the man sit on him.

Rodney pointed out that he was a vampire now, a bloodthirsty servant of the night, and they should be scared of him. Carson gave him a long-suffering look, Zelenka laughed himself sick, and Ronon snorted and called him 'harmless', at which point Rodney retold him the sixth-grade-science-fair story.

So seven months after the turning, an event of which Rodney remembered only hazy images of a cute blond and a succession of brightly-hued drinks, it had been established that Rodney McKay was, indeed, a vampire, and no one cared. Sure, it had been cool at first, but by then the novelty had worn off, and this particular group of world-weary and jaded people wasn't going to stand around fussing over something that just _was_. Rodney almost would've been insulted, except there was the whole forgets-it-himself thing, which kind of undermined his moral high ground.

Three days after the seven-month mark, Rodney's tendency to forget his new nature came back to bite him in the ass yet again. He staggered into his house, feeling hungry enough to give serious thought to gnawing on wrinkly old Mister Bergan up the street, and found himself veering off the path to his bedroom and following the predator-sense of fresh prey.

"No." Ronon said simply as he flicked through the channels at seizure-inducing speeds. Rodney whined like a dog.

"But I'm hungry, and it's not like I can call up for takeout."

"Don't even think about it, McKay."

"You _live with me_, you should be willing to feed me. It's not like I'm asking you to put out or something."

Ronon gave him a glare that normally would have sent him scampering before glancing at the pillow on the arm of the sofa and the alarm clock on the floor next to it. And okay, considering their current conversation, Rodney's willing to admit he might need someone to occasionally check in on him, but really, the man lives right next door, he's only saving himself a three-minute trip here. "And what do you _do _all day, anyways?"

The giant answered by throwing his cell phone at him, Carson's number dialed and already ringing. "I put out for you once, go suck on someone else now."

Which was about as horribly wrong as anything he could have possibly said, but still. Rodney was a little embarrassed about that first night and Ronon, clever monkey that he was, had long ago figured out how to use it. Plus Ronon was so far out of Rodney's league it honestly never even occurred to him to try.

Carson wasn't answering his phone, but it wasn't off, so Rodney hacked the cell carrier's GPS provider and tracked the man down- really, if they didn't want people doing that, they ought to put up real firewalls. Asking your best friend if you can borrow some of their blood is about as interesting an experience as it sounds, but Carson ought to be willing to swing by the blood bank and let Rodney in. Except he wasn't working late or asleep. He was in a fancy French restaurant with a cute, bubbly blond sitting across from him and even Rodney wasn't socially inept enough to interrupt when she was giving Carson _that _look.

Rodney left without Carson even noticing him. He headed into the bar down the street, deciding it was high time he learned how to hunt, such as it was. Most stories included vampires exuding some natural sexual allure; Rodney did not. He was, to quote, endearingly frustrating when he wasn't being out-and-out offensive. This made picking up random strangers for a quick nip somewhat difficult in that it went completely against his grain; hell, he had to _interact_ with people this way, and that was something Rodney was never going to be good at. So he went to the bar telling himself that he was a fierce predator on the prowl while, in reality, he planned on getting drunk and staggering home and hoping Ronon had the mercy to unlock the door instead of making him sleep on the porch again.

And then he met Sheppard.

-

Somehow Ronon knows to make himself scarce that particular evening and Rodney loves him for it, or at least he will once he's capable of thought more coherent than _please god yes sex now_.

Sheppard is hot and welcoming and his breath and hands fan over Rodney's skin and make him whimper. His quick tongue laps at Rodney's jaw and neck and his fingertips slide up under Rodney's shirt and one leg hooks behind Rodney's knees, sending them both tumbling onto the couch. Rodney's so involved in his own seduction that he even forgets his hunger right up until he pushes Sheppard's shirt up and revealed the muscled plane of his abdomen. He spreads one hand out on Sheppard's stomach, feeling the other man breathe, and bends down to nuzzle the soft skin at the hollow of his throat and rest his lips against Sheppard's neck.

Then strong hands were pushing him away and he sits back on his heels, preparing to complain, but Sheppard quickly puts an end to that. He arches his lean body into one long, tempting line, shoving his jeans down and finally losing the shirt and then he's naked on Rodney's couch, pupils wide in slightly glassy hazel eyes and breath panting, and Rodney is still completely dressed and that is just wrong wrong wrong-

"Oh god," Rodney says hoarsely, and drapes himself across all that glorious skin and presses his mouth against Sheppard's. The other man moans deep in his throat and thrusts his hips up, grinding against the thigh Rodney has placed between Sheppard's legs, and this is going to be over too soon for both of them if someone doesn't rein in his hormones for a moment.

"Bed," he whispers to Sheppard's chin, tracing the line of his jaw and feeling the pounding of his blood and damn, he's just so hungry, but right now hunger was at war with another, even baser desire and losing spectacularly. "Bed. I have one."

"Good for you," Sheppard murmurs, lips quirking briefly into a smirk, but he releases Rodney all the same. They roll off the couch and stagger down the hall, Rodney walking backwards because he can't turn away from the mouth that was so intent on claiming his, Sheppard working to rid Rodney of all his clothes. By the time they reach the bedroom Rodney is also naked and has tripped over his jeans only once, which is actually kind of impressive. Rodney gets them turned around and shoves Sheppard onto the bed first, leaving him hard and panting as Rodney digs through the dresser drawers. When he turns back with lube and a condom in his hand, Sheppard offers him a wrecked, boyish smile and spreads and lifts his legs in unmistakeable invitation. Rodney promptly drops the lube.

Sheppard is hot and tight and perfect and Rodney wants to go slow, to explore and worship this new discovery, but Sheppard isn't having it. He snaps and snarls and rocks his hips and finally wraps his legs around Rodney's waist and yanks him in close when he takes too long. The resulting thrust has both of them freezing for a moment before Sheppard groans and melts against him and that's it, all thought processes have gotten up in disgust and stormed out and Rodney really doesn't care. Right at that moment he lives only for feeling, for the sweat-slick press of skin and the gasps and the new-old feel of another body under his own, rocking in time with his thrusts. Sheppard closes his eyes and drops his head against the pillow, his neck exposed, and Rodney can't ignore that. He leans down and nips at the skin, feels Sheppard's breath catch. He bites a little harder and a hand curls around the back of his neck, encouraging him as Sheppard's face turns a little more to the side.

Fresh, warm blood is nothing like the bagged crap Rodney's been living off of up until now, and he has no idea if he can go back after this. He isn't sure he can go back to a casual jerk-off in the shower either. Sheppard has completely ruined him.

Their movements get harsher, shorter, more frantic. Rodney licks at the last few drops of blood and moves away; he almost kisses Sheppard again before realizing that that might not go over so well and settles for nipping at the man's ridiculous elf-like ears. Sheppard is panting again, mouth hanging open and eyes glazed and hands leaving bruises on Rodney's hips. Then he's crying out, back arching, nails digging in and oh _god_ he's beautiful and Rodney follows him right over the edge.

-

Cleanup is part of the service, apparently. Mostly Rodney does it because, after an hour of drowsing, he's capable of thinking with his brain once again and his brain is yammering about leaving marks and all the ways this could go horribly wrong if he's not extremely careful.

Sheppard is a maddeningly unhelpful, if attractive, lump on the mattress. He groans and swats at Rodney's hands when Rodney tries to roll him over. He's developing a nice hickey around the bite area but the actual wounds are pinpricks. He'll never notice them, not with the bruise in the way. Rodney rocks back on his heels and breathes out in relief, because it would royally suck to get outed as a vampire, then heads into the bathroom to get a washcloth.

When he comes back out, Sheppard's awake and watching him with a lazy smile. He stretches out, cat-like, all coiled muscle and warm skin and hooded, sleepy, horny eyes. Rodney forgets about the washcloth.

He doesn't bite Sheppard again.

-

Morning began far too soon for Rodney. Sunlight was stabbing at his eyes and he groaned and rolled away from it, grabbing blindly for a pillow or something to cover his face with.

"Morning," came a semi-familiar voice, and Rodney squinted. Sheppard was a too-tall silhouette against the sun-drenched window. One hand was resting on Rodney's, fingers on his wrist. Rodney stared blankly at that single point of contact. This... made no sense.

"Coffee?" he asked hopefully, since it was the only way he was going to ever form coherent thought again. Sheppard chuckled roughly.

"Sorry, don't have any. I was just- checking something. Go back to sleep."

"Dun wanna," Rodney told his mattress firmly, and then proved his point by passing out.

-

Sheppard was gone when Rodney woke up for real. This wasn't a surprise, even if it was a little disappointing in a vague, abandoned puppy sort of way. There wasn't even a note or anything. Rodney, being relatively inexperienced in the world of one-night-stands, couldn't tell if this was standard procedure or if he should be insulted.

He back-burnered this problem when he found Ronon in his kitchen. The ape let him fumble his way through five humiliating minutes before finally answering the question Rodney was trying so hard to not ask.

"Saw you two coming up the drive, figured you didn't want me here." Casual shrug. "So I left."

Rodney spent the day at home, since it was too late by then to head out to the lab. He called Zelenka every half hour or so just to see how long it took the Czech to snap. Once he did- two and a half hours- Rodney called Carson to gloat over how his was the cuter date last night.

Carson, god love his Gaelic temper, sputtered and stammered and finally yelled at Rodney about how friends didn't stalk each other via their cell phones and hung up. He called back forty seconds later, demanding to know if this meant Rodney had fed, and proceeded to ask after every detail. Rodney grew more uncomfortable and snappy with each question until Carson took the hint and gave up.

He harassed Ronon, who appeared to very much not like this stay-at-home thing. He took a long shower and just enjoyed the feel of the water on his skin. He even wore his Bite Me shirt, the irony appealing to him for some reason. By dinner he'd annoyed Ronon back over to his own house and started blocking Carson's calls.

The next day was back to routine. Ronon didn't exactly cheer when Rodney left for the lab, but he did give a big, toothy grin. Rodney chose to ignore this.

-

He met Teyla three days later. Teyla was Ronon's- something. Honestly, Rodney had no idea who she was to the big guy or why she was suddenly always around. She had a calming presence and a gentle voice and she could probably break him in half if she ever felt the urge. Rodney gave her a hefty dose of respect and avoided her if at all possible, which really wasn't easy since Ronon had all but officially moved in by then. At least she hadn't started spending the night, although Rodney suspected it was more a matter of when than if.

It was something of a vicious shock to look out the window one night a few days after meeting her and see the two standing in the driveway talking with Sheppard. He considered going outside to figure out what was going on, or to maybe shamelessly beg for more sex, but something held him back.

Ronon suddenly went stiff and glanced back at the house. Rodney pulled away from the window, even though he knew the man wouldn't see him since the lights were all off- night vision on a feline level, one plus about being a vampire. By the time he stepped back up Sheppard and Teyla were gone and Ronon was heading back over to his own house.

For the first time since he'd moved in, almost two years now, Rodney wondered if he should've been a little firmer with Ronon about his wandering tendencies. Except that probably wouldn't have really mattered, since the gorilla could probably break down the front door in one hit.

The next day they acted like nothing had happened. Rodney, who was just a little freaked out by now, called Sam.

-

Sam hadn't meant to turn Rodney. In fact, she'd been even more drunk than him when they'd first met at Bar A. By the time they'd made it to Bar D, she was so far gone Rodney wouldn't have felt right just leaving her. He dragged her to her apartment and tried to leave her dumped on her bed, except she wrapped herself around him and refused to let go.

Rodney had never really considered himself gay. He was open-minded when it came to sex and didn't like people trying to stuff him into a well-defined and suffocating role. That night, he had sex with Sam because she was hot and she wanted him and they were both stupid-drunk. The turning was an accident that happened because it felt good. To her credit, once she figured out what happened, Sam came back to teach Rodney how to handle his new existence, except sober-and-freaking-out-Rodney is nothing like drunk-and-horny-Rodney and Sam nearly ended up bashing his head in a few times.

Ever since then, though, Sam became sort of his lifeline. He called her whenever he started getting worried about things, or whenever he thought he'd screwed up, or whenever his paranoia acts up. Because, really, even though 'death by old age' had been taken off the table, 'death by superstitious lunatic wielding sharp pointy stick' had been brought back into the equation and Rodney wasn't really sure he approved of the trade.

Sam was utterly unconcerned by Rodney's story, which meant he'd either finally pushed her too far or she was in on _it_, whatever _it _may be. She pointed out that _it_ probably wouldn't end with his death, since Ronon could have easily killed him at any point- he certainly didn't need outside help for that. Rodney called her a wide variety of unfriendly names and she hung up on him.

She wasn't in on _it,_ Rodney decided, which meant he was missing something so blatantly obvious Sam had picked up on it just from hearing his side of the story. This did not surprise him.

-

"Oh _god_ yes," Rodney moans, fingers twisted into the sheets and eyes screwed shut. He's making an embarrassing array of noises but he doesn't care because every few seconds he finds a new one that makes the mouth around his dick tighten and increase the pace. Once he even gets Sheppard to _chuckle_ and that is sheer agony in an oh-so-good sort of way.

Rodney risks opening his eyes and peers down the length of his own body, meeting Sheppard's half-lidded gaze, and then there's no looking away from those lazy eyes. Sheppard rewards the eye contact with a brush of teeth, just enough to have Rodney gasping and squirming and Sheppard's holding his hips down so he can't do anything except lay there and take it.

"Glad you- _umm!_- glad you came back," Rodney pants out, which could easily be one of the most monumentally stupid things he's ever said because by now he's a little convinced that Sheppard is actively plotting his demise. Still, the sentiment is there, and he keens high and long when Sheppard pulls his mouth off to answer.

"So am I," he grins, then kisses Rodney's thigh and returns to his interrupted activities and Rodney's entirely happy with that, thank you very much.

-

He got a nine-one-one text from Simpson before the afterglow wore off. Kavanagh had been let loose in the lab again and Simpson feared for life as they knew it if Rodney didn't get down there.

"Where're you goin'?" a sleep-rough voice slurred when Rodney tried to get up. The arm around his waist tightened and slid upwards a little, holding him down.

"My lab," Rodney answered, twisting around in an effort to free himself. "My idiots are on the verge of being idiots again."

Sheppard was more awake now. He squinted at the clock and scowled. "It's the middle of the night."

"Yes, well, unfortunately, world-ending catastrophes don't exactly keep to a schedule."

"But you haven't-" and Sheppard snapped his mouth shut with an audible _click_. Rodney finally squirmed free and began the hunt for his pants. "Never mind. Go take care of your idiots."

There was no asking when he'd return, or if Sheppard would still be there when he did. There was a brief, awkward pause in which Rodney tried to find the words to describe what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Then Sheppard buried his face back into the pillow and Rodney took the hint and left.

He wasn't really very good at this talking thing anyways.

-

Five days later he found Sheppard sitting on his front porch drinking tea with Teyla.

Rodney was tired. He had just gotten off a twenty-six hour shift and he was feeling every second of it. His back was sore- from his poor posture, although he would sooner die than admit it- his vision was blurry, and he was still so jacked up on coffee that he was literally trembling. He snapped at the two trespassers and swung the screen door open wide enough to nail Sheppard on the hip, hopefully leaving a nice big bruise. Teyla gave him a sympathetic smile and went back over to Ronon's. Sheppard followed him inside.

"I'm not in the mood for you," Rodney told him. Sheppard merely herded him against the wall and leaned into him, kissing and nipping at the back of his neck while his hands slid up Rodney's spine under his shirt. He dug his fingertips into the big knot between Rodney's shoulder blades and Rodney jumped and yelped at the unexpected pleasure-pain.

"I'm not surprised," Sheppard chuckled into his ear, carefully rubbing at the tense muscle, and Rodney groaned and dropped his forehead against the wall.

Sheppard pulled him away and dragged him back into the bedroom and proceeded to completely destroy Rodney with careful touches and gentle words and a really good massage and even better sex, slow and tender and mind-blowing. At the end, he pulled Sheppard closer and nuzzled at his neck and Sheppard lifted his chin to give Rodney better access. His breath hitched when the fangs broke skin but otherwise he didn't react, merely carding his fingers through Rodney's hair and relaxing against him.

Rodney slept for twelve straight hours that night. When he did wake up, he was wrapped around an amused Sheppard.

"I'm glad you've realized I'm not trying to kill you here," he said conversationally, and Rodney blinked at him. "Also, by the way, did you know you sometimes talk in your sleep?"

"Talk in my... oh, fuck." Rodney groaned and buried his face into Sheppard's hairy chest as the other man laughed.

-

After that Sheppard randomly appeared every other day or so. They never officially arranged anything, he just kind of... showed up. They didn't talk about it much, neither one of them wanting to ruin a good thing. They also didn't talk about the vampire thing, although Sheppard had to know.

Naturally the steady supply of sex had a positive effect on Rodney, and naturally the people around him noticed. Ronon showed up at his house less often but spent more time actually in Rodney's company, if that made any sense. Teyla he began to see as less intimidating and more serene, and he even let her talk him into trading out coffee for tea in the evening.

Carson sat Rodney down for a lecture. Presumably he was explaining the endurance levels of the human body and going over how much blood Rodney could take from Sheppard and how often, except he made the mistake of putting the words 'Sheppard' and 'boyfriend' in the same sentence. After that, he could have been sharing his favorite recipe for deep-fried baby for all Rodney paid attention.

Zelenka didn't even pretend to be subtle in his approval of the changes; in fact, he went out of his way to encourage this behavior. One day Rodney came home to find Sheppard at the kitchen table, a pack of condoms and a copy of the gay Kama Sutra on the table in front of him. He'd obviously been there long enough to pick out a few favorites, for the book was studded with colorful little post-it flags. He looked at Rodney with wide, hungry eyes for about three seconds before literally tackling him. Rodney had just enough time to see his address written in that familiar scrawl on the empty packaging and make a mental note to _murder_ the Czech before Sheppard handily distracted him and kept him occupied well throughout the night.

Rodney made the mistake of calling his sister to share in his good will. He ended up arguing with her, of course. Sheppard wandered in once and did an immediate u-turn as soon as he heard the tone of that particular conversation.

-

One night, about four months after they first meet, Rodney abruptly decides that it's high time he start calling the guy something other than Sheppard. Because yes, it is his name, but the man currently has his cock buried in Rodney's ass and that sort of intimacy really ought to call for first names. So Rodney tries it once, testing out the shape of the word as it rolls off his tongue.

Sheppard goes still, which isn't nearly the result Rodney wants. He whimpers and grabs for Sheppard's hips to encourage movement but Sheppard ignores that. Instead he leans down, his face inches from Rodney's, his eyes burning.

"Say that again," he orders quietly.

"_Please_, John," Rodney pants, and at his name Sheppard makes a fierce growling noise and starts moving again, sharp hard thrusts. He bites at Rodney's collarbone and he's not the one with fangs but he's going to leave an impressive mark anyways. By this point Rodney is more than happy to beg and does so, using Sheppard's name sparingly enough that it still gets a very noticeable response whenever he does let it slip.

Once the last tremors of their orgasms wash over them, Sheppard collapses next to Rodney and groans.

"God, Rodney, sometimes I swear you're trying to kill me," he muttered, idly skating a thumb over the growing bruise on Rodney's fair skin.

"Mmm? What was that, Sheppard?"

The thumb suddenly pushes down hard on the offended area and Rodney gasps. Sheppard rolls over and drapes himself across Rodney, pinning him with insulting ease.

"Don't," he says, and there's something hard and unfamiliar in his eyes. "Not after that."

Rodney immediately relents, calls him John again and watches as the hardness fades out, replaced by a quiet relief. He kisses Rodney, long and deep and full of promises neither of them are up to keeping right now, and settles back into a more comfortable position. And Rodney says it, once more, just to hear his breath catch.

-

It took Rodney six months to find the courage to ask about that night he'd seen John in his driveway. He asked John over pizza, because the man was less likely to bolt that way. He did receive a deer-in-the-headlights stare and instantly knew that the answer was going to be an interesting one.

John had military training- Air Force- which Rodney knew because he still wore his tags. As it turned out, the military didn't train its soldiers to be light sleepers, it just tends to happen. John picked up on this and carried it with him even after his discharge. So that first night, when Rodney so carefully checked the mark he'd left, he'd pretty much highlighted to a wide-awake John that there was something unusual about it.

Naturally 'vampire' wasn't the first thing that sprang to John's mind. It did occur to him to wonder, however, after he spent ten minutes in front of the mirror investigating the wound. So he'd hung around until morning.

("That thing- in the morning- you were checking my pulse, to see if I _had_ one, and you opened the curtains to- what would you have done if I had burst into flames?!"

"I probably would've felt kinda stupid, though not as much as I did when nothing happened.")

The encounter the following week had been mostly Ronon's fault. John had realized that of the two of them, only he had even the faintest idea of how to find the other, and so had wandered his way to Rodney's house to ask for round two, or possibly even a real date. He'd gotten sidetracked by Ronon and Teyla and had made a joke about Rodney's being a vampire. Ronon had immediately switched from casual and laid-back to guarded and wary and had growled out several inventive warnings of what would happen to John if he caused any trouble for Rodney and pretty much blew the whole no-such-thing-as-vampires thing right out the window.

Dealing with the knowledge of what Rodney really was had taken John a few days, but he'd come back.

"You're kinda harmless," John grinned. "I just couldn't really think of you as being a real threat."

"Harmless. Not the first time I've heard that." Rodney scowled at his pizza, then up at John. "So, what, you've been feeding me ever since? Figured I couldn't do this by myself? Just because you're the only person I've ever successfully hunted-"

John spat out a mouthful of beer at the words. "Jesus, Rodney," he said, not quite looking at him. Rodney blinked curiously, then tilted his head to the side.

"You are, you know," he continued, watching as John's fingers tightened around the can, his brain shifting gears from _insulted and indignant_ to _possibly getting sex soon_. "On my first try, too. And you let me fuck you, which is always..." waving a hand around broadly; by now John's eyes were pinned on him and almost completely black, "always fun. Zelenka probably would've bet anything that I would fail at hunting but I didn't. I hunted you."

The last part was done in sing-song tone. John was already on his feet and halfway around the table; at that he growled and lunged at Rodney, knocking him right out of his chair and sending them both sprawling to the floor. By the time Rodney had caught up with current events John was straddling his waist and kissing him hard and fast.

"Ya know what?" he panted against Rodney's shoulder. "I think I'm okay with being hunted."

"Always wanted your very own vampire, huh?" Rodney gasped as those clever hands slid up his ribs, ghosting over his skin, the non-touch as effective as full contact.

"Yeah, but you've got this bad biting habit," John began, and Rodney growled and bucked him off, rolling over to pin John down instead. He nipped at the familiar spot on John's neck, pausing for a second and receiving a slight nod of permission, and bit down hard. John gasped at the sharp pain, then moaned, fingers digging into Rodney's shoulders.

Once he pulled away- and it was fairly quick, he only took a tiny bit- he sat back on his heels and smirked down at the glaze-eyed man beneath him.

"Love me, love my fangs," he chirped, then froze when he mentally replayed what he'd just said. John paused for only a moment before smirking. He wrapped a hand around the back of Rodney's neck and pulled him down. Neither of them were really comfortable with the kissing thing after Rodney had just fed but John ignored this, yanking Rodney into a deep kiss despite the lingering taste of his own blood.

"I think I can handle that," he muttered, and Rodney gave him a soft, shy smile, and nothing more really needed to be said.

-

Ronon has developed the alarming habit of going all guard-dog in the face of- highly prospective and never proven- vampire hunters, which is strangely touching, especially since there had been about a week where Rodney had been convinced Ronon was one himself. The caveman is no longer spending hours on end in Rodney's house, and he generally warns them before he randomly appears. Rodney has someone to take care of him now; Ronon's job is done.

After the third time he short-circuited Rodney's brain in as many lecture attempts, Carson gave up on him and switched to John, who could at least pretend to pay attention. Rodney found himself vaguely alarmed by this, since Carson had a gift for explaining that often left the lecture's recipient wondering if it was safe to even _breathe, _never mind engage in such risky acts as sex, and John wasn't familiar enough with the Scot to have built up a proper defense. Thankfully John didn't seem unduly bothered by it.

The first time Rodney allowed John into his work lab, they'd ended up having sex against one of the tables, which was exactly why John hadn't been allowed there prior to that. Naturally Zelenka walked in on them. Thankfully he did an about-face and left very quickly, and John managed to calm a hyperventilating and mortified Rodney down by means of shoving a table against the door and giving him the world's best blow job. The next day, Rodney and Zelenka decided without saying a word to pretend nothing had happened, right up until the part where Zelenka had looked at him and said, "Huh. You really are vampire."

And John... John is emotionally stunted and incapable of communicating on an intelligent level and has the maturity level of a twelve-year-old and hides his surprising intelligence for reasons unknown. He slouches and can completely take over any couch or bed he happens to be on and leave no room for anyone else. He sulks like a fifteen-year-old girl. He keeps taking the last of Rodney's hideously expensive Hawaiian coffee. He's too pretty by far, which means Rodney spends hours glaring at whatever flirty young thing is hovering around him this time. He is physically incapable of going to the lab where Rodney works and not touching things, especially Rodney himself. He hogs the TV during football season and cheats at chess. He insisted on a double date with Ronon and Teyla, which was a disaster, and then he did it _again_, except somehow that time it worked and now the four of them have a standing weekly dinner-and-maybe-movies arrangement. He won't talk about his Air Force days and yet gets pissy when Rodney refuses to share bad memories from his own past. His idea of conflict resolvement is to beat the crap out of the punching bag in the basement and then go for a four-hour run and expect everything to be all better when he gets back. He completely freaked the first time Rodney asked if he wanted to get a blow job for once, instead of always giving them, and yelled- through the bathroom door, see fifteen-year-old girl reference above- that there was _no way in hell_ Rodney was getting those fangs near John's dick. He's frustrating and exasperating and sometimes scarily cold. And, horrendously cliché though it may be, Rodney wouldn't change him for the world.

Okay. So. Maybe being a vampire has its perks after all.

Even if he still occasionally forgets that he is one.


	2. Breaking Up and Making Up

Okay, so in trying to write John's POV of the last chapter, I actually write a sequel. Still in Rodney's POV. Clearly I suck.

Not as much sexxing in this one, kiddies, so sorry to disappoint. And I don't know if I'm actually continuing this or if this is a one-off chapter. And now I'm gonna go leave you to it.

Disclaimer: me no own.

---

Breaking Up and Making Up

---

Rodney's always thought of himself as winner of the Most Fucked-Up Family Award. After all, he spent his entire childhood wondering why other kids called their parents 'mom' and 'dad' instead of by their names, and his sister says things like _you are a horrible person _and_ I hope you enjoy being an asshole _more often than she says things like _I love you_ and _I miss you. _And she's supposed to be the sensitive one. Still, he's willing to admit that John beats him hands-down when the man shows up on his front porch, eyes dark and expression shuttered, and says he's leaving town for a little while. Turns out his father died a few days ago, and John got the questionable pleasure of finding out via the eleven o'clock news.

It occurs to Rodney that John knows next to nothing about his family and he knows even less about John's. It hasn't mattered before now. With Carson and Zelenka and Ronon and more recently Teyla, Rodney just kind of unconsciously adopted his own family, and John was shanghaied into it when he wandered too far into Rodney's sphere of influence. That either of them actually has blood relatives comes as something of a muffled shock to both of them.

Which is how they end up with John standing on Rodney's porch, hands in his pockets and body slouching almost aggressively. It's not quite midnight, the best time of day for a vampire, and Rodney's been lazily planning things he wants to do, most of which involve a bed and all of which prominently feature John. Except then the man himself is there and almost challenging Rodney with this new information. He's pissed as hell, at his father for dying, at his brother for not calling, at the world for existing. Rodney's just more conveniently located.

"Oh," Rodney says in return to the sudden informational ambush. And then he says nothing else, because he's not going to make such an easy target of himself. Instead he watches the non-emotions slip across John's carefully designed mask and listens to the crickets chirp and the rain patter softly.

He considers asking how long a 'little while' will be. John's on the off-again part of the on-again-off-again relationship he has with gainful employment and his landlord is already on the edge of evicting him. Technically speaking Rodney's the only thing he has to come back to, and right now that isn't looking too reassuring. He's afraid to open his mouth, though, because whenever things get tense like this nothing good happens when he lets himself speak.

John's waiting for something. Probably the rest of Rodney's reply- he's never been a fan of monosyllabic grunts. That's Ronon's area. Rodney can't quite meet that artificially blank gaze, so he lets his eyes wander, focusing on the street past John's shoulder. The streetlamp throws off a harsh orange glow and the moisture from the rain rises off the summer-hot pavement in a thin, hazy fog. In the distance thunders rumbles, sounding like a contented lion.

"Okay," Rodney offers, managing to keep it from becoming a question. John ducks his head and starts to say something, then turns and walks away.

John Sheppard has the attention span of a goldfish and can't hold a grudge for longer than five minutes. When he still hasn't called after double that time, Rodney knows he's done something genuinely unforgivable this time, and he can't think of what it is to save his own life.

The next morning, while he's half-heartedly abusing Simpson for her wrong wrong wrong so horribly _wrong_ hypothesis, he gets a text message saying that the plane ride was uneventful and to expect an actual phone call at some ambiguous, undefined 'later'. Rodney wonders if this is John's way of breaking up.

He thinks he kind of hates Patrick Sheppard for dying.

-

The ambiguous, undefined 'later' turned out to be twenty-three hours later- not that Rodney was counting or anything, he just has a mind for numbers and organization. The call is terse and short and almost painful and after it's over Rodney makes Miko- resilient, worshipful Miko- break down into tears and slam the bathroom door in his face. It takes two hours and four people to coax her out, not that Rodney notices since he's banished himself into the corner room in the basement by then, writing out equations that consume whole whiteboards and throwing heavy things at anyone who dares try to enter.

Zelenka tries anyway and succeeds by grabbing up one of Rodney's previous missiles- a stapler- and chucking it back at him, then slipping in and cementing himself into the chair in the corner while Rodney bitches.

"Problem?" the Czech asks, when Rodney looses steam some twenty minutes later.

"No," Rodney snaps back, keeping his back to the irritating little fuzzball since he can't lie worth a damn. "There's no problem. Why does there need to be one? I remember when you were all perfectly happy with my being a bastard without needing a cause."

"We were not happy. We lived in fear of your wrath." And Zelenka can say those sorts of things with a straight face and unaffected voice and leave Rodney wondering if he's being serious or witheringly sarcastic. After a moment, he adds the kicker: "You do know he loves you."

"Oh my god, seriously?" Rodney blurts, and now he has to look at Zelenka in order to properly mock him. "Is this why you came down here, to- to-" He can't even express his thoughts, can't organize them fast enough to put the sharp edge on them and cut Zelenka down. It's a common problem for him. "You think you're a teenage girl, is that it? You want to swap stories and giggle over magazine pictures and take that godawful relationship quiz in Cosmo and talk about _feelings_. Which one of us is gay, again?"

"I have girlfriend," Zelenka offers, tone calm and rife with _don't go there_ warnings. Rodney goes there anyway.

"Really? That explains this, then. She's got you totally whipped. Are you two going to wait until the wedding or have you already started counseling?"

It's not his best work, not even close, but it's a sensitive subject and it takes very little to set Zelenka off. By the time he storms out Rodney's learned three new insults in Czech, has a growing bruise from a three-ring binder, and knows that they'll be all right.

-

The troll-in-the-basement routine becomes old fast and at sunset on the dot Rodney bolts for home. He's desperately grateful that Ronon and Teyla have both vanished- they'd asked him if he wanted to come along but on the words 'camping trip' he'd inhaled part of a donut and they all got to find out firsthand that Ronon does, in fact, know the Heimlich maneuver- since he doesn't think he can deal with them right now. All the same, he hopes they get back first, because Ronon may have warmed up to John but it only takes a single pleading glance from Rodney before the gargoyle is back to physically removing John from his presence.

Unfortunately, this leaves only Carson in his pathetic little family. He starts to call before remembering that Carson's proposing to Laura again tonight, again meaning he's chickened out three times now and never manages to get to the actual proposing part and is doubtlessly confusing the hell out of the woman. He's promised many painful things if Rodney interrupts or, god help them all, GPS-stalks him again, and since he's a surgeon with access to many sharp objects and heavy drugs Rodney keeps his distance.

Rodney skulks into the bedroom and wriggles under the covers and scowls at the walls. So much for the vampire's wild night life. He pulls out his phone again, starts to dial John's number, and switches over to a text message.

_You have completely ruined my life and I hate you_.

He hesitates for a long moment, then sends it. The worst John can do is call him and tell him to stop bothering him and let go already, can't he just see that the whole father-dying thing is just a useful cover to hide the fact that John's bored and wants to move on? Rodney drops his phone onto the table and curls up under the blanket and allows himself an extravagant ten minutes of panic. Then he orders a pizza he only picks at and falls asleep feeling sorry for himself.

-

Actually, the worst John can do is ignore him, which is exactly what he does. The next morning there's no missed calls or new messages, no e-mails. Nothing. Now Rodney's worried about something happening to John on top of everything else.

Patrick Sheppard's death is news, the second-page-above-the-fold sort of news, so Rodney has no problem tracking down the pertinent details. Dead at sixty-two from cancer, survived by two sons. Retired Air Force major general. He'd started his own aeronautics company, both designing and flying, and Rodney suddenly gets why John had to go. He's seen how John watches the planes that fly by, knows John has a pilot's license and nothing to pilot. It's a choice between Rodney and flying and Rodney's pretty sure no plane has ever sent John a text message saying _I hate you_.

He composes a long, rambling apology that never quite manages to actually _apologize_. He has to send it in three parts. Thirty seconds after he sends the last one, he gets a reply.

_Jesus mckay quit freakin out i know what you meant_

Which isn't exactly reassurance, but it's not a stop-talking-to-me-you-freak either, so Rodney decides to leave it be.

He goes to work, because if he doesn't he'll only mope around at home all day long. His minions scatter when they see him coming. Miko preemptively locks herself into the bathroom again. Zelenka's still spitting mad about yesterday and only comes close to Rodney once, to give him the latest copy of Cosmo, the page with the relationship quiz tagged with a sticky note.

It's the universe's idea of a sick joke that the quiz is titled Is He Trying To Break Up With You? Rodney thinks he might have to kill someone for this.

-

John's not feeling any more chatty that night but at least he responds in a timely fashion, obviously having figured out that Rodney's inclined to panic if left to his own devices.

_I'm hungry_, is Rodney's first message, and it's surprisingly true. He's been living off powerbars and caffeine for two days now. Last night's pizza is in his fridge, missing only one piece, which is still sitting half-gnawed on the counter.

_then eat something _comes a minute later. Rodney sneers at that.

_Not that kind of hungry._ Because that's also true, and that kind of hunger is harder to deal with. John doesn't reply for a full ten minutes and Rodney catapults himself off the bed and into the air with an embarrassing shriek when his phone suddenly beeps shrilly.

_You want permission or something, Rodney?_ And the sudden use of proper grammar is as good a sign as any. Rodney can easily imagine the cold gaze, the smirking voice.

"Jerk," he says to the phone, and throws it down onto his bed. "Would you at least tell me what I did to piss you off?"

His hands are shaking. He ignores this. Real food he can play fast and loose with for weeks, he's done it before- his entire college career being a prime example- but he's a vampire and unfortunately there are certain requirements that go with it. He calls Carson and finds out that he's at work and not in a good position to help. Ronon's still gone and wouldn't let Rodney feed on him anyway and even if she were here he'd never be able to look Teyla in the eye again if he even thinks about asking her.

So he heads out to a bar instead, figuring that if he could manage it once, he could certainly do it again.

-

The next morning is a nightmare. He wanders around the house, lapping the perimeter of every room twice, swaying and stumbling and occasionally jerking away from things he knows aren't there, babbling nonstop about things that make no sense even to him. He's not even sure what language he's speaking.

He makes it to the bathroom just in time to throw up what little he's eaten in the past twenty-four hours, and spends the morning shivering in a ball on the floor. During the worst point he calls Sam, because she still genuinely gives a fuck, and he sounds broken and scared and desperate enough that she drops everything she's doing and manages to be at his house in an impressive twenty minutes. She stays in the hallway, because they have the sort of relationship that can only improve with distance and physical contact is strictly taboo. Still, she's there, and she calls Carson as soon as she sees him and covers him with a blanket and tells him she's got a pretty good idea of what's wrong with him, and it's not his fault, and it'll go away soon.

The problem, it turns out, is drugs. Sam's guess is Ecstasy, although it doesn't really matter since it amounts to a form of food poisoning all the same. Trust Rodney to be the only vampire dysfunctional enough to feed on a junkie. Sam and Carson stay until it wears off mid-afternoon, mostly sitting in his kitchen, occasionally getting up to guide him back to the bathroom whenever he starts his wanderings again. They talk about things that have nothing to do with Rodney and pretend they both aren't blaming John for this.

When Rodney finally starts coming down, he curls up on the couch with a thermos of coffee and a blanket and spends the afternoon hating himself. Sam goes back to work with an apology and a promise to call and check up later. She can deal with him when he's sick and not quite himself. Carson, however, has seen him at his worst and still sticks around, and his worst certainly describes his current mood. The doctor takes the abuse calmly, sometimes taking a shot of his own if he feels Rodney is getting too out of line. Rodney considers asking for his cell phone, then decides that Carson really doesn't need to know and asks about Laura instead. Carson sighs and touches a hand briefly to his pocket.

Rodney wonders distantly if any of them are ever going to have a real, healthy relationship.

-

That night, when Carson's asleep on the couch because there's no way in hell he's leaving his drugged-out friend on his own, Rodney calls Laura. It's an idea that has so much potential to go so horribly wrong but he does it anyways. This whole proposing thing isn't going to happen without someone giving Carson a swift kick in the ass and Rodney's happy to oblige.

"Do you love him?" he demands the second Laura picks up. She sputters but recovers quickly- she's spent enough time around Carson to be adjusted the McKay Whiplash Syndrome.

"What the hell, Rodney?" she snaps, and he wonders if maybe he isn't still a little bit high. Too late now.

"Do. You. Love. Him? Only, he's been trying to propose to you for _weeks_ and every time he chickens out and I'm tired of his moping."

"Oh my god, McKay, mind your own business," Laura orders, except she's giggling like a little girl. In the background another woman asks what's happening.

"So next time he takes you out to some fancy restaurant for no reason, don't let him leave until you've got the ring," Rodney tells her, then hangs up as she starts squealing.

-

It's kind of embarrassing and absolutely classic Rodney, the whole finding-out-Teyla-is-his-neighbor thing. For six months the woman shows up in the neighborhood just about every day and Rodney never spares a thought as to why. He simply assumes that she's some groupie of Ronon's, since the two spend a lot of time together. It isn't until John actively points out her house that Rodney realizes she actually lives directly across the street.

Two days after the whole best-forgotten drug thing, Teyla comes home and immediately makes a beeline for Rodney's house. It's like she can sense something's wrong. She lets herself in and finds him sleeping on the couch, the pizza still untouched in the fridge, powerbar wrappers scattered like confetti, and a dozen messages on his answering machine.

The messages include: Carson's three calls, best described as death threats; Zelenka's two twenty-minute rambles on goings-on in the lab; Sam's quick and cautions 'just checking up on you'; the verbal equivalent of junk mail. Nothing from John on either phone.

Teyla, clever girl that she is, cottons on immediately and merely murmurs a soft 'oh Rodney' and sinks down on the couch beside him, pulling him upright and tucking his head against her shoulder. It's the only human contact he's had since John left and it breaks something in him.

He doesn't cry or anything, because he's still a guy and _gay_ doesn't mean _flamboyant_. He doesn't tell her about the drug thing. He only skims over the whole John problem, trying to make light of it. Teyla reads between the lines, though, because she's good at it and Rodney fails miserably at hiding those things. She makes him change into clean clothes and takes him out to the small corner cafe that she likes so much and calmly informs him that it's nothing to worry about, most men are pigs. He wonders what Ronon did but doesn't ask. Instead he asks if she needs help disposing of the body.

Their table is almost in direct sunlight and Rodney enjoys the new-old feel of warmth on his skin, ignoring the tingling burn just below the surface. Teyla orders soup and tea for him before he can protest. The soup is good and not too hard on his still-queasy stomach. The tea is sharp and bitter and he doesn't like it until the waitress brings over some honey.

Ronon is home when they get back. Rodney watches from his own porch as Teyla corners him, talking fast and low and often gesturing towards him. He feels like he's in sixth grade all over again, his most emphatically divorced parents only willing to talk to each other because, hello, their son had built a nuclear bomb in the garage and took it to the science fair.

He hopes John does come back. Watching Ronon kick his ass might almost be worth all this melodrama.

-

The next day he's back at the lab and all is well again. He considers simply moving in here, since he's so obviously screwed up every other part of his life. Then John's landlord calls and he once more has to acknowledge the existence of That Utter Bastard.

_You're being evicted, what do I do with all your crap?_

And, two hours later: _put it in your garage ill get it later_

Rodney recruits Zelenka, because he's got a car with actual trunk space, and Ronon, because someone has to do all the heavy lifting. The two scientists sit up front and argue over directions. Ronon actually gets them there and intimidates the landlord when he balks at letting them in. There's not a lot of stuff to pack up and they manage it in one trip, which Rodney is personally grateful for since the landlord is staring at them with a flat unblinking gaze. The man's not as tall as Ronon but is heavier- both in muscle and fat- and Rodney wonders skittishly how anyone could live here with that snake-glare. He'd be booby-trapping his door with sirens and a shotgun.

Teyla helps with the organizing once the boxes are in the garage. She's still quite pointedly not speaking to Ronon, whose normal communicative methods leave him at something of a disadvantage in this game. It's hard to notice the guy not talking to you when his version of talking is mostly limited to grunts and stares. Zelenka, previously unaware of the dissension between the happy couple, spares Rodney a please-save-me sort of look when he suddenly finds himself cast in the role of barrier. Rodney, who'd had to do a good deal of fancy footwork to avoid that, merely laughs.

It feels both completely right and totally wrong, moving John's stuff into his house. John himself should be here, cracking jokes about his adding to Rodney's already intimidating sci-fi collection and making a big deal about being hot and taking his shirt off.

Zelenka flees at the first opportunity after learning that the three others all live close by and no one will be needing any rides. Ronon says something to piss off Teyla, Rodney isn't paying enough attention to know what, and she huffs and storms off in her Teyla-esque way, which means graceful and serene and very much with touch-me-and-die undertones. Ronon himself growls and heads off to his own house. Rodney stands in his garage, studying the rain-heavy clouds that were rolling in, the day's last sunlight filtering weakly through the trees.

He calls Carson and starts to fumble his way through an apology. Carson cuts him off, short and brutal, telling when what doors will be unlocked at the hospital, and hangs up. He calls Sam, just to see if he can get her to go from mildly friendly to homicidal in ten seconds or less, but she seems determined to be nice to him. Feeling mildly disappointed in his failure, he heads inside and closes up the house in preparation of the coming rain.

-

There's the familiar feeling of skin on skin, knowing fingers sliding up his ribs, ghosting over sensitive areas, gently digging into tense muscles. Rodney mutters sleepily and lazily arches up into the touch, opening one eye wide enough to see the familiar, if tired, smile. It's nice to be touched again, nice to have someone there, and the soul-deep ache Rodney hasn't realized he's been feeling fades.

Then reality catches up, and Rodney's suddenly very, very angry. Anger is good. Anger is an old friend of his. He twists and kicks out and catches a startled John on the hip, propelling him right off the side of the bed where he lands with a yelp and a satisfying thud.

Two seconds later John's head pops up in a surprisingly good meerkat impersonation. Rodney scoots himself towards the other edge of the mattress and scowls firmly at the man.

"What the fuck, Rodney?" John demands, as if he has _any right_ to be getting mad, which he does not.

"What do you want?" he snaps, short and brittle and he's going to break if this conversation lasts much longer.

"I was just thinking about how I missed my daily dose of raging hysteria," John shoots back. "How about you? What's inspiring this little spazz-episode?"

"I don't know, besides the fact that _you broke up with me_."

"I- you- what?" John rocks back onto his heels, blinking stupidly. He tilts his head to the side slightly, as if literally seeing things from a different angle will help. "Broke up with you when?"

"Little five-word conversation on the porch ring a bell? No?" Rodney leans over to seize his cell phone and brandish it like a weapon. "How about the fact that you didn't call and it was like pulling teeth just to get you to respond to my- hey! Don't touch me! You don't get to touch me!"

Except John really doesn't seem to care. He plants one knee on the mattress, hooks his arm around Rodney's neck, and collapses forward, pinning Rodney to the bed with his weight. His face burrows against Rodney's collarbone and his hair tickles Rodney's face.

"I've had one of the worst weeks of my life, so can we just... not? Right now?" he says plaintively, voice muffled by Rodney's skin, and Rodney feels like an ass. The guy's father just died and it never occurred to him to cut him a little slack. Then he remembers the junkie, and Teyla and Ronon, and Carson's stony silence even though the ungrateful bastard is engaged now thanks to Rodney's intervention.

"No, we can not _just not_ right now! I have had a crappy week and you're not allowed to snuggle up to me because you've been an utter bastard and you broke up with me and you haven't even apologized for any of it! Carson hates me and Zelenka just subscribed me to three years of Cosmo and Sam thinks I'm an incompetent idiot who can barely keep from getting himself killed and my minions nearly blew up the lab four times while I was gone and Ronon and Teyla are sharpening their knives as we speak in preparation of killing one another and, oh yeah, my boyfriend broke up with me for absolutely no reason! Get _off_!"

John has gone from snuggling to bodily holding Rodney down, keeping him pinned with one of his military moves that's normally hot as hell and currently very infuriating. Rodney has to stop struggling because he's naked under the very light blanket and his very understandable reaction to John's closeness is not the sort of impression he needs to be making right now.

"Okay, I was planning on moping around all day feeling sorry for myself, but you know what? Change in plans." John says. "What the hell has been going on around here? Did you people just wait for me to leave before falling apart?"

Rodney huffs in disdain and turns his face away, refusing to answer. If John were really interested he would've bothered actually attempting to keep in touch. The aggravating man sighs and drops his forehead on Rodney's shoulder, briefly, then pushes himself up. Rodney has enough time to sit up before the lamp on the bedside table snaps on, assaulting his light-sensitive eyes.

"Fuck, Rodney," John breathes, staring at him. Rodney can easily imagine what he looks like- pale and drawn, shadows under and in his eyes. He hasn't really eaten anything except the cafe soup and powerbars the whole week long, and he's still not fully recovered from the vampire equivalent of chugging Draino, so yeah, he pretty much fell apart in a most spectacular manner this week.

Rodney jerks his chin up and glares at him, challenging him. In return John narrows his eyes- challenge accepted- and almost savagely yanks his clothes off. Thanks to his military training, he's completely naked before Rodney organizes his thoughts enough to protest that John still isn't allowed near him, even if he's naked. Stripping is not a viable argument strategy.

John seizes a double handful of the blanket and jerks it away, then launches himself across the mattress. Rodney puts up a fight and John will have bruises for a week or so, but ultimately John wins. Rodney complains bitterly about John's caveman methods right up until John kisses him.

It's casual and lazy and sexy as hell, everything that John is in Rodney's mind, and Rodney's body is well-trained to respond even if his mind is gibbering uselessly. When John finally pulls away, most of the fight has left Rodney and all he does is glare insolently at the man.

"First of all, I? Did not break up with you. I was pissed and not really fit for human contact and I took it out on you even though you didn't deserve it, and I'm sorry. You? Completely overreacted. Next time try calling before having your meltdown and maybe we can avoid this in the future."

Rodney opens his mouth to protest and John kisses him again. It still shuts Rodney up, every single time. After almost a year he should be used to John kissing him by now, should be able to form coherent speech immediately after, although by now he's given up on it.

"Not that there's going to be a next time, because now I know better. Second of all, try trusting me a little. I'm not that big an asshole that I'd do something like that to you." He pauses, waits for Rodney to protest, then continues. "And third, where did you go and what's Sam got to do with any of this?"

Rodney mutters under his breath for a moment. Now that he's not completely bent out of shape over everything, he can see that the whole week is basically one mortifying moment after another. The last thing he wants to admit is that he screwed up big, or that he still goes running to Sam over every little freakout. When it becomes apparent he's not willing to share, John smirks a little.

"I can call her and ask, you know," he says, and Rodney lets out a nervous little laugh.

"I wouldn't suggest it. She's not very happy with you right now." He pauses, considers that. "Actually, no one is. Except Zelenka- he's too scared that Ronon and Teyla will start fighting with him stuck between them again."

"Ronon and Teyla? What's their problem?"

"Seeing as to how I first found out about it when Teyla was going off on a men-are-pigs screed and had a bowl of hot soup to use as a weapon, I didn't really ask. And you don't seem too surprised to hear you're _persona non grata_ right now."

"I kinda figured I'd be on Ronon and Carson's shit list, since you were really convinced I dumped you. Little surprised you're there with me, though. What'd you do to Carson?"

"Got him engaged, not that he deserves it, the miserable, thankless bastard."

John snorts and shakes his head, because really, only in Rodney's twisted little world could things like this happen. Then he dips his head once more for a long, leisurely kiss and Rodney manages to squirm a hand free and wrap it around the back of John's neck, fingers twisting into thick soft hair.

"So am I allowed to continue this time, or am I gonna get kicked out of bed again?" John murmurs, and Rodney grumbles and pulls his other hand free and wraps both arms around him, yanking them together with an _oof_.

"I need..." Rodney begins, stroking two fingers over the sensitive skin of John's collarbone. He needs to feed, desperately, this time on a healthy addiction-free person.

Something dark flickers through John's eyes, and Rodney reminds himself that he's smarter than he looks, than he acts, and he's fully capable of getting two plus two to equal four. Then his face softens and he smiles and nods. Rodney's always careful to ask before biting John, because if their roles were reversed he's not sure he'd want John gnawing on him with no warning.

John flips them over with ridiculous ease and if his quasi-ninja military moves weren't such a turn on Rodney would have had to protest long before now. He dips his head and licks at the proper place. It's been a week, long enough for the ever-present bruise to fade away to a faint discoloration. He nips at the spot, then wraps a hand around John's dick and bites down at the same time. John gasps and bucks his hips up, and Rodney works him to the edge and over with practiced ease. He's never before thought about how healthy John has to be for this relationship and he's desperately grateful for the effort now.

He gives John a minute, then nudges at his hip until he gets the hint and rolls over. John mumbles something unintelligible and gropes for the bedside table; a moment later the lube nearly hits Rodney in the head. While he's fumbling with that, John shifts up onto his knees and turns his head to offer Rodney that same boyish smile that Rodney fell in love with a year ago.

It's hard to remember, now that he's here, gently thrusting into John's body, that twenty minutes ago he hated his life. He wraps his hands more firmly around John's hips and ducks his head, licking at the sweat on John's spine and feeling him shiver. He'd almost lost this to a problem of his own creation.

"Don't scare me like that again," he orders hoarsely, and John huffs a laugh that Rodney feels more than hears.

"I won't," he replies, then moans deep in his throat. It's the closest either of them will come to apologizing, to reassuring.

It's good enough.

-

They order pizza, because it's fast and easy and John's got that fuzzy, wrecked, well-fucked smile and there's no way Rodney's sharing that look with the rest of the world. The car pulls into the driveway twenty minutes later but the doorbell doesn't ring and Rodney goes to find out why.

John finds him in standing the driveway a few minutes later, munching on a slice of pizza, pizza boy next to him. Both have their heads tilted to the side as they regard Teyla's house across the street.

"Huh," John says, taking a slice from the box in Rodney's hands. "Are they...?"

"Made up? Looks like it," Rodney answers.

"It's like free porn," the pizza boy says.

"Think we should tell them the door's open?" John asks curiously. Rodney snorts.

"Go right ahead. I'll wait over here."

"She's really flexible," the pizza boy adds, almost reverently.

Suddenly it's not so funny anymore. Rodney gives the kid another twenty bucks and John herds him down to his car. They head inside after that. If Ronon and Teyla want real privacy, they need to learn to close the garage door before making like horny minks on the hood of Teyla's car.

-

It's Sunday the next day. The morning is gray and drizzly and Rodney decides to stay in bed. When John protests, Rodney distracts him by kissing and talking dirty, something he rarely does, and by the time John realizes that his wrists are tied to the headboard it's far too late to actually do something about it. Rodney sits back and watches smugly as John struggles and rapidly goes from amused and horny to genuinely frustrated at his inability to free himself. By the time he gives up, he's covered in a thin layer of sweat and panting.

"Very funny, Rodney. Now let me up." He's using his Superior Officer voice. Rodney smirks, because it annoys John when he shrugs off that commanding tone so easily.

"Why?" he asks, tracing one finger along the line of John's hip, and John's eyes go unfocused.

"Give me a minute, I'll think of something," he gasps.

Rodney doesn't give him a minute. Instead, he gives him a blowjob, something that's still new to their relationship- John only recently got over his my-boyfriend-has-fangs-and-they're-going-nowhere-near-my-dick freakout. John swears and whines and twists his wrists around until Rodney knows there's going to be spectacular bruising there. When he finally comes, he arches his hips and back off the bed and gives a hoarse scream.

Ten minutes later he checks back in and finds himself still tied up, which he protests loudly. Rodney merely gives him a demure kiss and snuggles up against him.

-

By late afternoon they're both sated and satisfied and all is once again right in the world. John risks having his internal organs rearranged and goes over to Ronon's house, just to check in. The ape-man lifts an eyebrow at the fast-coloring bruises on John's wrists but doesn't say anything that Rodney's aware of. Naturally the two neanderthals don't need to actually say anything. They're both well-adjusted to communicating with grunts.

Teyla, meanwhile, ambushes Rodney while John's gone and invites them over for dinner. Rodney can't come up a decent excuse fast enough and John comes back to find him in the hallway with a look of pure horror, which John matches when he hears that Teyla plans on cooking.

Carson calls and stiffly demands to know who Rodney's been talking to about his upcoming nuptials. When Rodney's answer is limited to one person- John- Carson suffers a minor breakdown and tells him that his mother somehow caught wind of the engagement and has already flown out from Scotland and ensconced herself into Carson and Laura's house, promptly starting World War 3. By the time they hang up, the previous offense had been traded out for the tolerable, friendly insults involving being afraid of one's own mother.

For Zelenka, Rodney goes online and orders a three-year subscription to Seventeen Magazine. When John hears about this, he rolls his eyes and says something about separate mail boxes.

-

John's thirty-seven, a little old for the whole what-do-you-plan-on-doing-with-your-life spiel they give to high schoolers now. Still, that is exactly what's been on his mind since he got back. Rodney gives him his space. Not everyone knows from age nine what they're going to be when they grow up, and John's Plan A- the Air Force- dropped him at the worst possible time age-wise and he's been a little lost ever since. He's inherited a large chunk of cash and a respectable share of his father's company, so he doesn't need to make up his mind immediately.

Which is probably why Rodney comes home one day and finds John with pamphlets and class listings for the nearby university. Rodney sneaks a look over his shoulder at the courses he's interested in and blinks.

"Aeronautical designing and engineering?" he asks blankly, and John smiles up at him shyly.

"It's something I can do," he explains. And that's all he needs to say- he has nothing to offer from the business angle and there's no way he's moving out there to be a pilot. Besides, Rodney knows him well enough to know that the first thing John did after getting his inheritance was put money down on a plane of his own.

"Huh," Rodney says thoughtfully. Sometimes it's still hard to wrap his mind around how smart John is.

"Don't worry, I fully intend to hide all my homework from you," John drawls, breaking the spell. Rodney huffs indignantly and sets off on a litany about not taking proper advantage of the genius available to him. Johns watches him work himself into a real froth with a lazy grin. Then he slinks out of his chair and ushers Rodney against the counter and pins him there for a kiss, which is still the easiest way to shut Rodney up.

-

Teyla and Ronon start breaking up and making up on a regular basis. It's frustrating as hell, since Rodney can't possibly keep track of when they're off and on. The pizza boy starts delivering to all the houses in their neighborhood, but he never gets the same show.

Carson gives up and crashes on Rodney's couch for a week and a half while his fiancee and mother go at it like pit bulls. Rodney, who isn't the one who extended the invitation, is visibly annoyed by this and refuses to be appeased by Carson's offer of best man and finally drives Carson to go back home and actually stand up to the two women. That mildly disastrous encounter ends with Carson living in a hotel for two weeks.

Zelenka carries on the magazine war with Rodney until they're both getting two dozen magazines a week. They call a truce at that point and it lasts up until the moment Rodney finds a copy of _Dracula_ and a piece of paper advising him to 'take notes' on his desk. In retaliation, he hacks the Czech's computer and has it play 'It's A Small World After All' every half hour. John laughs himself sick at both of them.

John himself has officially moved in. He and Rodney have similar enough taste that there's no noticeable difference, except the basement becomes John's work area once he enrolls in his classes. It takes a while, but he finally coaxes the entire story of what happened that week out of Rodney. When he hears about the drugs he wraps his arms around Rodney and refuses to let go for almost an hour. Then he calls Sam and yells at her for not calling him. He talks to his brother about business- reluctantly- and occasionally tolerates Rodney nitpicking over his more mathematically inclined work. He won't, however, let Rodney call the teachers and explain to them how horribly wrong they all are.

It's life as normal in the McKay universe, and Rodney wakes up one morning, John wrapped around him like always, and abruptly realizes that he's genuinely happy. Has been for a while. It takes a minute to process this, and once he does, he nudges John with an elbow and tells him.

"Good for you," comes the murmured reply. He feels John's lips curl into a smile. "Love you too, Rodney."

And that was good enough.


End file.
